


Icarus - OR - Finally Home

by Erukai



Series: United Comics Universe [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Trauma, Gen, LGBTQ Character of Color, Mentioned Steve Trevor, Origin Story, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erukai/pseuds/Erukai
Summary: A history lesson. An island in the clouds. A terrible crash. A place of safety. Mom jokes. A sense of belonging. An endless war. A giant monster. A deadly debate. A rebirth.
Series: United Comics Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664020
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Icarus - OR - Finally Home

* * *

1101 BCE

I shudder to think of the world seeing such a sight again. If 300 men meet on the field of battle, let alone 3,000, it will be too soon. I can see it now, the plains weeping with too much spilled blood, while Zeus sends down another torrent to drown us. Whatever our transgression, it is too late for speculation.

We are at war.

His aim is clear: to obscure our foe. The curtains of mist and rain make fine work of that. Even from the peak of Mount Athenas, it is impossible to count the number of our foe, though they be but a few miles from our very doorstep. Why, if we were not bred for this sort of thing, we might not even know the enemy was there. But god trickery or no, that fact cannot be hidden from us.

Antiope anticipates a secondary force approaching from our less fortified positions to the East. I suspect that she has far too much respect for our foe, but I will not let hubris be our downfall. We can ill-afford to lose the numbers, but it would be far more disastrous for us for our finest General to lose all confidence in her intuition.

It is less than an hour hence that the battle began. A bolt struck from the blue, scattering our lines just as the enemy’s heel met Themysciran soil. I’ve rarely seen such hatred in men’s eyes as I have today. You’d think they were fighting the foulest host of Tartarus, not Amazons.

Then again, perhaps there’s something to be said there: after all, do we not fight like demons? Do we not strike the same fear into men’s hearts? I would think so, seeing how much divine favor the enemy sought fit to curry. I suspect Ares’ own might flows within them, though little it has done for their advances. The fields are indeed bloody, with the blood of Greeks and Amazons both, and yet since that first moment not a single daktylos has been ceded. My sisters, however terrible their sacrifice may be, have shown these invaders that even in death an Amazon will not submit.

Why else, then, would they reveal their commander so early?

Zeus did his best to obscure the presence of his favored son, but for all of his sorcery the man’s ego outweighs us all. He could not stand idly by while his men seemed to lose ground to a mound of corpses. So he issued a challenge. The curtain of rain seemed to part for him as he approached. Not a drop of rain present upon his armor, the Nimean Lion’s corpse, though gaudily worn, unstained by moisture.

Heracles’ wicked smile shone like Hades’ own fires amidst that blackened battlefield.

I go to meet him now. I’m certain Antiope would have herself my champion, instead, but my people can ill-afford a new general. They can always find another queen.

And I will not have it said that Hippolyta let a challenge go unanswered. That she let her own sisters die while she cowered in her bathwater.

It is said that facing Heracles is like facing an entire army in one. How unfortunate for him, then, that he should be facing an Amazon?

Armies are our daily bread.

* * *

1976 AD

The storm, for all of its bluster, could not be seen this far above the clouds.

The Jet screamed through the swirling vapor, carving out thick loops and swirls as she pressed the controls as hard as they could go.

It took all of her willpower not to let out a single _whoop_.

“ _-zzt-ver?_ ”

She reached down and unhooked the radio.

“Come again, _Rock_ -Actual. Couldn’t read you. Over.”

“ _-zzt_ - _ference too heavy with the storm. We’re losing yo-bzzt-dered to come back to roost immediately, over._ ”

She rolled her eyes a little.

Well, at least she had had her fun.

“Copy that.”

As she began to turn the Eagle back toward the carrier, a small _beep_ sounded from the dash. She raised an eyebrow and examined the radar screen, waiting just a moment before, sure enough, a small blip appeared. Faint, but unmistakably there.

“ _Rock_ -Actual, this is Icarus-Six. I’ve got some kind of...object or something on my radar. I’m going to examine it before I head home, copy? Over.”

“ _Zzt-at? N-zzt_ ”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you. Too much interference. I’ll have to have this thing checked out once I get back, won’t I?”

With a smirk, she switched off the receiver and broke off into an S-loop. She’d get a reprimand, sure, but it wasn’t like she was in the Air Force to make friends.

They had made that abundantly clear by now. 

As she followed the dot, she found that it led her in the direction of a swirling...column would not do it justice. It was an island of cloud, a larger mass of the stuff than any she had ever seen; her rudimentary meteorology course back in Basic was failing her now as she could not even come up with a proper classification for the thing.

A hurricane, perhaps, only in the sky?

She grimaced.

 _Beep_.

Whatever she was after, it was in there. It was highly unlikely it was the cloud, itself. Probably some experimental aircraft the Russians were working on. Hell, for all she knew, the cloud, itself, could be nothing more than a...smokescreen. A projection of some kind. Weirder stuff had happened in the 40s, hadn’t it?

She switched the transceiver on again.

“ _Rock_ -Actual, I don’t know if you can read me anymore, but I’m seeing a massive... cloud formation of some kind up here. It’s huge. I’m at coordinates…” She gazed down at the instruments. “...Ah, Hell, everything’s gone haywire. I don’t know where I am. I’ll keep my transceiver on so you can find me when I eventually crash my stupid ass. Over and out.”

Nothing ventured…

She throttled up, climbing in altitude, just to be safe. After all, if she was picking up the signal of some kind of aircraft in there, she wouldn’t want to go crashing into it, would she?

Some kind of warning klaxon began to blare. Too high, she surmised.

She reached the edge of the cloud.

For a moment, the world became a blur of purple darkness, stretching out into infinity. Sound seemed to have forgotten its own existence. If she lost her focus for a moment, she was certain she’d just naturally remove her hands from the controls, as naturally as breathing. What need would she have for piloting in so calm a place?

And then she broke through the outer layer and crashed directly into the mountain on the other side.

* * *

There is a method to my madness, even if Antiope may believe and say otherwise. I do not answer his challenge idly; it is not shame or dishonor that concerns me, it is my sisters. And changing this battlefield into a sporting ground provides us exactly what we need.

As I go down to meet my challenger, I whisper orders to my swiftest: scour the field, find every one of your sisters that still breathes, and get them to the Purple Chamber. I wonder, as I give the order, if our foe has done enough research to know about the chamber, about the crystals we cultivate and their miraculous healing properties? I wonder, should such words have reached his ears, if he would have brushed them off as mere bluster? Men often think the world is just a reflection of their own selves.

The girdle does not shine as I take to the field. It looks far less like gold in person, though it is assuredly pure; still, people seem to think it should sparkle more, or be more yellow, or perhaps it weighs too much or too little. If he were half as clever as he seems to think he is, he would have his archers unload a volley upon me now; sure, the girdle would deflect most, but it would at least demonstrate that he understands the threat he faces.

He smiles, instead, showing that he does not.

* * *

When she woke up the first time, she was greeted with the overwhelming scents of salt and blood. It did not take her long to discover that the blood was, in fact, her own, though the salt still perplexed her, even as she undid her harness and attempted to crawl away from the crash site. The ejector system must have engaged at some point as she was dozens of yards away from where the F-15 lay smoldering on the--

Beach.

She was lying, bleeding out, upon a white, sandy beach.

Things grew darker as her mind tried to make sense of things. She could have sworn that she had not fallen so far. Yet, there really could not be any other…

She fell back into darkness to the smells of horses and concerned, strange voices speaking a language she did not know.

* * *

When she awoke the second time, she was surprised. Whenever she had blacked out in the past, everything started out as kind of a large, white, blur whenever she came to.

For whatever reason, things now were…

...purple.

She winced, already ready for some unspeakable pain that she’d have to grit her way through.

Nothing.

That sobered her up quicker than anything else.

There was nothing.

The complete absence of any pain.

Her eyes shot open as she held up an arm, illuminated by some purple light from above. She had been certain that that arm had been broken when she first woke up. She had seen clear through to the bone; and yet here it was, unmarred. She ran her fingertips over her arm.

There wasn’t even a scar.

While she felt no pain, a heavy fatigue was already settling over her so that she groaned as she rose up into a sitting position. She cocked her head to the side, feeling around her ribs.

The old football injury was gone.

She _really_ needed to find where her gun went… 

Quickly, she jerked around as a presence she had only just been aware of made itself clear. Her breaths came in quick, hot bursts as she rose up into a stooped crouch atop the...examination table, or whatever it was that she had been laying on and entered a defensive stance. Sweat was rolling down her brow.

“Who are you?” she demanded of the stranger stepping from the shadows, “What the hell is this place? Why can’t I...feel pain that sounds like so dumb when I say it out loud…”

The stranger drew closer and she tensed up more.

As they rose up an arm to calm her, bringing it into the light, she became suddenly certain of the fact that her little defensive stance and months of combat courses just _wouldn’t_ be cutting it…

Strong fingers wrapped around her bicep, squeezing her in a way that felt almost...maternal.

The woman smiled at her, though it was clear from her face that what she was feeling most was concern.

Suddenly, she felt very stupid to be crouched up on the table like some housecat who’s afraid to be at the vet. With flushed cheeks, she lowered herself back down and looked the woman in the eyes. In most places, it didn’t show, but her eyes betrayed the truth: she was impossibly old.

The pilot gulped a little and adjusted her uniform. She was thankful, at the very least, to have not woken up naked.

She was feeling ashamed enough as it was.

The woman turned to another-a doctor of some sort, the pilot surmised-and asked something in stern tones. It was as if a cello had suddenly developed the ability to berate you.

Whatever the woman said, however, was Greek to her.

“I’m...sorry I didn’t quite get that…” she mumbled, trying to tug her uniform tighter, as though it might suddenly grow several sizes and be able to smother her completely. As if to demonstrate whatever point she was trying to make, the first woman held up her hands in frustration, gesturing towards the pilot while the doctor spoke in apologetic tones and rushed over toward them both with what appeared to be a shard of amethyst.

She placed it against the pilot’s temple and traced it along to the base of her spine.

“...bout now?” the first woman huffed.

“Whoa…”

“I...think that’s your answer, my Queen.”

“Yes, I think it is. Thank you, Dinae. Sorry for my...brusqueness…”

“ _Holy shit you’re speaking English!_ ”

“Oh, it’s fine, really. Given the day and, well, everything, I think it’s more than justified.”

The Queen gave a nod of thanks and then gestured to be given the room. The pilot, still a bit mystified, watched as the doctor left, eyes wide as the doors opened automatically upon her approach.

“How did they-” she began.

“‘Truh-eh-vor,’” the Queen pronounced, staring at her uniform, “That is your name?”

“Oh,” the pilot said, blushing again, “Y-yes, that’s right.”

She extended a hand.

“Airman First Class Steve Trevor, US Air Force, ma’am.”

The Queen looked down at the hand and then back up into the pilot’s face. A flash passed over her eyes before, with a smirk, she took the hand and shook it.

“Queen Hippolyta of Themyscira,” she said by means of introduction.

“‘Themyscira?’”

“Yes,” Hippolyta said curty, as though the word was common knowledge, “Though I must say: I do not quite believe you.”

“I’m...sorry?”

“Your name. When I hear you say it, it sounds like a lie one has been made to tell others.”

“I...I don’t know what…”

“Yes you do,” Hippolyta said with absolute certainty. She smiled at her and the fear that she had had, that this was leading to some rejection, that the Queen would hurt her in some way, it all ebbed away under that gaze. In truth, it just made her want to cry.

“Please,” Hippolyta said softly, her hand upon the pilot’s chest, “I want to know your name, if you’ll honor me with it.”

Something inside her still wanted to protest, still wanted to insist that she was “Steven” and nothing else.

But the rest of her whispered softly: _the pain’s not there anymore_.

Tears, hard to come by, welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“Diana,” she admitted, whispering it as though the word was so precious it could break on impact, “My name is Diana.”

Diana wept as Hippolyta wrapped her strong arms around her, somehow imparting some of what made her so terribly solid in the embrace. It held Diana aloft when the weight of the world felt like it was about to crash down.

“Sister Diana,” Hippolyta said, “Welcome to Themyscira. You do not need to hide, here…”

Starlight twinkled reflectively in the tidepools, second and third galaxies shining as she walked along the shore. The sea was still a mystery to her; but everything else was, too, so Diana did not really hold that against herself.

“I still don’t understand,” she said, letting her toes sink into the blank sand. Seawater, just as salty as anywhere, flooded in each crevice until it began to pool and overflow around her feet. Warm, which made her smile. “How did you all get here? Like _here_ , on this island in the...sky. I still can’t wrap my head around that one.”

Hippolyta looked at her with unrestrained fascination and, Diana noticed, quite a lot of patience. Her nose wrinkled a little at the almost-maternal affectation to her gaze. Still, it was better than…

Diana didn’t let her mind wander too far down that path, instead focusing her mind on the small hermit which was scuttling about in its luminescent shell.

“Well?” she prodded again, picking up the crab to get a better look. Hippolyta smirked at her.

“You know,” she began, tying up her train so that she could stand beside Diana, “These questions could be more easily answered at the banquet hall…”

“ _No!_ ” Diana snapped. She then closed her eyes and hissed out a curse.

She saw that momentary look in Hippolyta’s eyes and her heart sank.

This place almost made you forget what you looked like.

She hadn’t meant to be so…

She ran her hand along her head.

“Sorry,” she muttered, “But, no. No, I… I can’t…”

Hippolyta’s hand found hers. It was calloused, rougher than any sandpaper Diana had ever felt in her life. Truthfully, it sent a buzz up her spine.

“We’ve always lived here,” Hippolyta explained, as though the past minute had not happened, “Themyscira is our home. We found it. Claimed it. Tamed it. Made it our own. Our own Elysium.”

Diana nodded. There wasn’t much else she could do, she felt.

“And in time, we became the most effective fighting force in the entire ecumene. Even the Persians were afraid of us.” She leaned in conspiratorially, a mad glint in her eye. “ _I was the first to disprove that whole_ ‘Immortal’ _thing_.”

Diana blinked but smiled as this seemed to be the polite thing to do.

“And, well...things happened which always happen. Someone rose up to challenge us. An army of men from across Greece marched on our borders and we fought them for three long days and nights.”

It was perhaps a dumb question, but it was already forming on Diana’s lips before she could think of a better one.

“What happened?”

Hippolyta’s eyes grew distant, and she smiled with wistful, nostalgic reverence.

“I cut Heracles’ dick off.”

Several moments passed with only the susurration of the tide echoing down the shore.

“...what?” Diana quacked.

Hippolyta turned to her, canines flashing.

“I cut Heracles’ dick off,” she repeated, visibly all-too-happy to retell the tale.

“I...You...Wait…”

“Sliced it clean off. Single stroke and just-- _fft!_ \--no more.” Her expression grew more critical, though an air of amusement still hung about her. “Though I must say, I _did_ expect the son of a god to be a bit more...impressive. Perhaps Hades’ bastards would have been better equipped in the ‘Underworld.’”

Hippolyta nudged Diana in the ribs when she did not immediately begin laughing.

“Come on, that was _funny!_ ”

“No, wait,” Diana said, taking a step to the side, “I... Hold on, I _know_ that story. Hercules, right?”

“Heracles, dear. Hera-cles. I’m sorry, but the way you said it sounded...wrong.”

Diana did her best not to roll her eyes.

“Right. Fine. _Heracles_. Son of Zeus.”

“Also his great-great-grandson.”

“I... Okay, wow, I don’t know if I knew that… Um… Listen, stop distracting me I have a thought here. Herc-Heracles was tasked with undergoing twelve labors for Ari...Aris...his cousin, and one of them was to get the Golden Girdle from the Amazons. He fought you and won and then he…”

Diana’s cheeks suddenly grew flushed.

Hippolyta arced an eyebrow as her mouth twisted into a bemused smirk.

“Yes?” she said, “Do go on…”

Diana cleared her throat.

“Um... well he fought you and won and then he…  _ claimed _ you … … …”

For a moment, Diana was worried that Hippolyta would fly into a rage and that she, being the only living thing currently present, would be forced to endure it.

Instead, the queen burst out into a fit of laughter that quickly turned into deep, heady wheezes as tears streaked down her cheeks.

“ _HE_ ” she managed to eke out between laughs, “ _HE--FORCED--FORCED HIMSELF--ON--ME?_ ”

Diana took a cautious step back, just in case.

“Is that what he told people?” Hippolyta asked, completely beside herself. From the way she said it, Diana wasn’t sure if she assumed that Diana had been physically present at the time. “Oh, I-- _aha_ \--I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. That does sound like the kind of tale Zeus would have come up with to save face.” She shook her head, her shoulders still quivering with errant laughter. “ _Gods_ , now I wish I had kept the thing and dipped it in bronze…”

Diana’s cheeks felt flushed again and she reflexively squirmed a little.

“So…” she began, “That _wasn’t_ what happened?”

“No!” she shrieked, smiling, “Of course not! Oh, sure, I could see those thoughts beginning to form, alright, but I put a stop to that, now didn’t I?”

They stared out at the horizon together in total silence for a few moments. Enormous clouds passed over and around them, swirling into immeasurably-complex shapes. They looked so close that Diana felt that she could easily reach out and touch them; it was then that she remembered that she could.

“So…” she began again, rubbing the back of her neck, “Then what happened next? There had to be more than ‘dick off, now the island’s in the sky.’”

“Well,” Hippolyta said, her expression sobering by degrees, “We were still at war…”

* * *

I take comfort in the looks on my enemies’ faces. The disbelief. The unhidden rage. The awe, most of all.

That we have given them nothing after three days of fighting seems a miracle to them, even as a demigod led them to this battle and fought at their side. Because they do not understand us. What beats in the heart of every Amazon and drives them to this glory.

Spite.

We have ceded no ground since this began, not because of some grand strategy or even as a matter of pride, but for the sheer _spite_ of it. Because they _dared_ to try and take it. And we are well-aware of the cost. How many times now have those black wings been seen amongst our ranks? He can be seen in each murder as they peck our sisters clean to the bone. I weep for them even as I find my heart burning with…

With what?

I do not know what is chief amongst them all. Hatred. Pride. Sorrow. I feel them all. Each death is an end, but not an ignominious one. They each died facing their foe head-on. That is something to be envied. Should we all be so fortunate.

And yet…

Some other thoughts have begun to stir within me.

He’s not been seen on the field since I castrated him, though I can hear him now, bellowing. All the rage of Zeus is in that voice and I know that all of the power is behind it, too. This folly has come to its end. The comedy was bad, so it must be a drama then.

A tragedy, though I’m not certain He will see it as such.

Antiope’s hand finds mine.

She’s always been steadfast, so I must admit I am shaken as she turns to me for strength. I don’t know if I’ve ever noticed how soft her eyes are before. In truth, I must have been blind.

This sets off a fire throughout the living. Hands clasped along our lines, each Amazon turning to another in this time of certain doom. My chest aches. With what I do not know.

Or I will not say.

We turn to the enemy in unified defiance.

Heracles can be seen now emerging from their rear. A holy fire burns from his eyes and mouth, lighting him from within. Whatever part of him that was a man has been cast aside, leaving only _this_.

But we won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his prey afeared. We are Amazons.

I give the order for our arms to be cast aside: weapons will clearly be of no use now, so why endure the weight? The act puzzles the men across from us. I can see in their eyes as they try to work out the cleverness behind it. What new trick do these women plot? What do they know that we don’t? How worried should we be?

I didn’t plan on it, but it comes all the same. And once it comes, it spreads like wildfire throughout our ranks.

I laugh in their stupid faces. We all do, and all of our voices become one.

We mock them with our good cheer on the hour of death and it has a profound effect on them.

No battlefield in the hundreds I’ve fought upon has ever smelled so terribly.

Heracles is close now and his speed is inhuman. He casts aside any obstacle, including his own men, which stand between him and these vexsome women who have humiliated him for this long and no longer. Just the touch of his fingers is enough to rend flesh from bone. It is a terrible, awesome sight to behold.

And still? We laugh.

It is how we choose to die.

We have formed our line, become it ourselves, and in our moment of death we shall let them know that we were never broken. For we mock our foe and the powers they mustered _just_ to get a fleeting hope of felling us.

Never have we been so sure that we are the greatest this world will ever see.

I swear that I can smell his stinking breath on my face now.

And then in puzzlement, his and mine, Heracles’ charge stops--even in this state, he cannot walk on air, and since his power only comes from his blood and his piety, he dares not offend the gods.

For this is clearly their doing.

An earthquake sunders the ground at our feet yet leaves us all unharmed. From this crevice comes bursting twin waves of pure fire and seawater. We forget ourselves for a moment and experience the awe of it. I can see Demeter’s hand in this, working the earth with a potter’s fingers as we find ourselves cast adrift from the rest of the world. Above us, in spite of the light, I hear a great owl hooting as it circles the sky, and I sense the hand of the divine in the stricken faces of our enemy’s, as though their very emotions have been turned against them.

All but one. 

Heracles has remembered himself now and his anger only brings my own spirit joy.

Our Themyscira now rises from the sea as though pulled aloft by the beating of a thousand wings and his ugly face contorts with the hatred of it. He will not let this be the end of things.

He tears a spear from the hand of an alley before hurling it with all of his might at his enemy.

I do not know why I do it.

Yes I do.

I wish to spite him still.

My hand raises with practiced speed. Did he think that we would never train ourselves to fight one such as him? Where’s the sanity in that?

Still, the head cuts my palm deep, sending pain and blood down my arm. My expression never changes as I tighten my grip on the shaft, stopping its momentum in a moment.

Then I smile, holding my trophy, Heracles’ gift, triumphantly over my head.

I don’t think he’ll ever forget the sight of it, nor I the sight of him.

The owl remains with us no matter how high we climb, making itself heard, its presence known, that we might not lose heart. I don’t truly think it is necessary. We know that we have won, and when our bodies are properly rested and the dead tended to, we shall have feasting and celebrations that Olympus will be envious of. I do not heed the call of thunder that cracks through the sky. Let him roar! Let him scream! _We_ have won. Not Him.

I do not know what new life awaits us amongst the clouds. But I know that we shall face it as we have faced every new day before: together, as Amazons.

* * *

Diana kept glancing between the Hippolyta standing beside her and the one standing before her, her face contorted in disbelief.

Why was Hippolyta chuckling to herself and trying to hide it?

Diana leaned in closer to stare at the woman’s face before turning again to...to…

What even was this thing?

It was a projected image, she understood that much. But there didn’t appear to be any surface onto which it was being projected and, even more to Diana’s amazement, it wasn’t flat at all but had... _dimension_. Even as she walked around the dias, which clearly served as some manner of projector, she could not find an angle where the image remained the same, where the hidden planes of glass or whatever was being used to achieve this effect was visible.

She passed her hand through the image, surprised to find nothing solid there.

“How…?” she managed at last.

Hippolyta let out a small noise of what might have been embarrassment.

“It’s been three thousand years,” Hippolyta explained, “We get...bored…”

Diana continued to stare at the image in disbelief, the recounted tale still working its way through her mind. It did so in small pieces, but even so she was finding it hard to process it all.

The gods were real. Well, the Greek ones anyway. Were the others real too? _Every_ god that man had ever dreamt up, all very much real and forced to coexist?

...who made the world, then?

Diana put a hand to her head, closing her eyes as she forced her body to breathe.

She was spinning out, and that wasn’t doing her any good.

Relax.

Or at least don’t panic.

Breathe.

In and out.

Better.

Where was she _right now_? What could she do about that _right now_?

She opened her eyes again.

“Is there anything else like this?”

A sly smile worked its way across Hippolyta’s lips.

“Come and see.”

Although it was ill-advised, Diana closed her eyes, fully absorbed in the feeling of wind upon her face. She could hear Hippolyta chuckling beside her before the woman prodded her in the ribs, bringing her attention back to the controls.

They were rather simple, really. Straightforward. In place of a stick, you had your hand over some kind of glowing pad; other than that, the principle was the same. Diana took them into a sharp bank right which quickly turned into a roll that brought them whizzing between a pair of peaks. Snow flew off of their shoulders as Diana throttled up, unable to form a grip at this speed as Diana began laughing too.

The only thing she couldn’t really work out was how the damn thing _flew_.

Well, that and…

“What do you call these things again?”

“Kangas,” Hippolyta explained.

Diana shook her head. There was no way. They were completely isolated from the rest of the world, and from everything she had seen so far--and she had been looking, _thoroughly_ \--they didn’t seem to possess any form of surveillance equipment or communications arrays.

_That she could recognize_ , she had to remind herself.

“Why?” she finally asked, buzzing the craft around a nearby spire.

Hippolyta sat in silence for several moments.

“...I don’t know.”

When she had had her fill of this fun, Diana, sides aching from laughing so hard, brought the... _Kanga_ down in the nearest clearing. She hopped out of her seat, sliding along the smooth and frankly-alien metal as though it were just her convertible’s hood, and hopped to her feet, bouncing.

“Alright, what...next…”

Diana blinked.

She hadn’t been paying attention to _where_ she brought the thing down, only that it was safe enough to land. And because of that, dozens of pairs of eyes were now staring at her and Hippolyta as the queen struggled to free herself from the machine.

“ _Nng_ \--a little help, Diana?” she huffed.

Diana gulped, her fingers twitching.

What would happen if she just...got back in the pilot’s seat and took off? What then? Would they send more of these things after her? Would they track her down and force her back? What if she just flew off toward that horizon and never stopped? Would she break through the cloud layer and find her way out of this waking dream and back to reality? What would her superiors think when she brought this _thing_ to land on the flight deck? In fact, what did they think, right now, had happened to her?

_Him_ she had to remind herself.

They would be thinking, “what happened to _him_?”

“ _Diana!_ ”

Hippolyta’s voice brought Diana back to the present, though not before the not-too-distant past had already deposited warm tears on her cheeks.

Forgetting herself, Diana scrambled up the carapace and helped Hippolyta down to the ground, unhooking her dress from where it had gotten itself caught. The Queen brushed herself off with an air of satisfaction before she turned, smiling, to Diana and then to the crowd.

She waved while Diana attempted beyond all hope to shrink behind her.

Hippolyta’s face was puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

“I…” Diana began, her voice breaking. At that sound, Hippolyta’s face stretched in panic and worry and she turned to fully envelop Diana, holding her as closely as she feasibly could.

“What is it?” she asked, fear evident in her voice.

Diana gulped again.

“I…” Heat was rising upon her cheeks. “I don’t want to… be a sideshow.”

“What?”

Hippolyta’s hands caressed Diana’s face. They moved in staccato bursts, though the pattern was recognizable. Diana knew it well. It was like a mother searching her child for any sign of the ailment plaguing them, as though everything manifested physically.

Diana shook.

“I’m a… You know…” Diana mumbled, casting her gaze downward, “I’m just a freak here and I…”

Hippolyta shushed her, frowning deeply. Her expression was harsh, but it softened as Diana stared at her.

“What did I tell you?” she chided, holding Diana back up to her full height as she had begun to collapse in upon herself, “Here, you do not need to hide. Diana,” she said, and her voice was the soft, mirthless, mournful laugh of someone explaining something simple to a child that has been hurting for their ignorance, “Do you think you’re the only one?”

Diana blinked back tears.

“What?”

Hippolyta brought her into a tight embrace and already Diana could feel some... _something_ that had been writhing within her begin to dissolve away.

“Diana, why would we be only _one thing_ here?”

“I really need to get back to work. We’ll talk later, okay?”

Diana waved Iason off as he ran through the square back to his workshop. He melted into the arms of his wife, twirling her around before he scooped up his daughter and placed her on his shoulders.

She knew why, but Diana didn’t want to admit why she was crying.

When Hippolyta’s hand found her shoulder, her own hand instinctively found the Queen’s.

“They’re… happy.”

“Of course. What did you expect?”

Diana didn’t answer.

As the two of them began to walk through the city streets together, Diana was happy to find that the initial staring had all died away. True, there were still a few who looked their way, but all they would do was smile and wave before returning to whatever it was they were doing.

A few children ran past, nearly knocking Diana over as they passed a ball between them. Hippolyta shouted something at them in what Diana assumed was Greek before shaking her head in a matronly way.

Diana stared at them.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… So, you are all, genetically anyway, um…”

“More or less, yes,” Hippolyta answered, sensing out the rest of the question.

“Right. So… how are there…” Diana gestured at the children, who now seemed to be entertaining themselves with a game called “Let’s See How Hard We Can Throw This At Each Other.”

“Well,” Hippolyta began, “In the old days, it was a lot more complicated. Earth, water, fire, air, blood. More of a… _ritual_ than anything. Now it’s all rather simple, really. Cloning. Genetic sequencing and splicing. Randomization algorithms, that sort of thing.”

Diana nodded along; it seemed like the polite thing to do, and in truth she did not _really_ want that in-depth of an explanation.

“Of course, given our limited territory, it’s always been a matter of concern that we stave off overpopulation. Which is why we’ve always had a lottery for this sort of thing, you see. Every few years, paying close attention to resources and growth patterns and the like-- _blah blah blah_ \--a certain allotment is decided-- _so on and so forth_ \--and then we draw lots and suddenly we have new little ones running underfoot.”

There were a lot of tears and blood being shed, currently, as well as harsh whispers being exchanged as some attempted to silence others.

Diana caught Hippolyta looking off into the distance, her cheeks...flushed?

“What is it?” she asked, snapping the matriarch out of her daydream.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you--”

“Would you look at that? The palanquin’s here.”

They rode together in silence as the larger kanga brought them up to the palace. Although its architecture was decidedly ancient, Diana had seen enough of the island to know not to count anything out. As far as she knew, ray guns could be hidden in every column.

Hippolyta led her through the palace grounds, which included a tour of the gardens, before they settled down for something to eat in what Diana had to assume were the queen’s audience chambers. The plush cushions let out a soft squeaking noise as she rested her weight upon them. Although she knew it shouldn’t have amazed her at this point, Diana could not help but stare in awe as the queen sauntered over to a machine and, within moments, walked back with plates piled with steaming food.

“I do apologize,” Hippolyta said, handing a plate over to Diana, “My mind’s been slipping, so I had to make some assumptions about your diet when I really should have just asked.”

“How did you--”

“Oh,” Hippolyta said, evidently expecting Diana to have grown accustomed to this sort of thing by now. She continued to chew her food as she spoke, “It’s nothing, really. Rudimentary. Basically just three-dimensional printing, more or less. Come, eat. You’ve been through a lot.”

As Diana digested her food, she did her best to come to terms with all of the fantastical things she had seen up to that point. Although she didn’t read much of them, everything seemed like it came straight out of one of those pulp novels, though she wondered if any of those writers had had imagination enough to believe that a society of women might not be all _women_.

Diana moved her food around her plate, looking for any sign of manufacture or fabrication. It certainly _tasted_ like beef, and yet…

“So,” Hippolyta said at last, casually sipping her wine, “How long do you plan on staying?”

The chunk of goo flew across the room as Hippolyta finally managed to free the blockage from Diana’s throat. Gently, she laid her down, grabbing more cushions for her head.

Diana placed a palm to her forehead, muttering out a hoarse “thank you” before her thoughts settled.

“I…” she began, trying hard not to meet the queen’s gaze, “I can’t stay here. I don’t...belong…”

“What?!” Hippolyta shrieked, “Of course you do! I thought I had made that quite clear by now!” She was on top of Diana in less than a second, grabbing her by the collar. “What can I do to make you feel more welcome?! What am I doing wrong?! _What do you need_ _from me?!_ ”

Sweat beaded on Diana’s brow as she held up her hands in defense.

“I-It’s not that! Really!” Her face betraying her disbelief, Hippolyta slowly laid Diana back down upon the cushions so that both women could shift into seated positions. “This place? This is Paradise, it really is. I… I could not have, in my _wildest_ dreams, imagined myself somewhere half as nice as this.” Her smile was wan. “It’s just… I don’t belong _here_. I have a life back home. Family. Responsibilities. I… I can’t just leave that all behind. I can’t be that selfish…”

It was a simple question, almost childish, really, but still it shook Diana to her core.

“Why?”

She stared at the stony face of the queen. The woman was unyielding, her eyes shining with a defiance that _dared_ Diana to prove her wrong.

Her cheeks were growing warmer.

“W-Why? Why what? Why can’t I be that selfish?”

“Yes.”

“B-Because! I just can’t! I-I mean, I have a family! You guys have that here, right? I mean, of course you do, I know you do, so… I… I can’t just leave mine.”

Hippolyta didn’t blink.

“They know who you are?”

“N-Not… really…”

“What does that mean?”

As much as she didn’t want to, Diana’s mind flashed back to magazine racks, department stores, her mother’s closet. To her parents’ eyes. And as her thoughts drifted back, her hand drifted to… 

She winced.

That ray they had used had healed the scarring, physically at least.

Hippolyta seemed to see the words unsaid.

“I’m sorry,” she said plainly, placing a hand on Diana’s knee, “But it seems to me that they left _you_ long ago. You’re not beholden to them.”

That squirming thing inside Diana dissolved a little more.

“B-But what about my responsibilities?” she protested, surprised at how desperately she was doing so, “I took an oath to serve my country! I’m a soldier, I can’t just… just... Go AWOL. I can’t just _leave_ just because I don’t…”

 _Like it_ , she thought. _Because I don’t like it_.

This seemed to reach Hippolyta, the queen nodding her head in silent understanding, and as she did so Diana wished that she didn’t. She wished that she could grab the words and shove them back into her mouth because…

Because she knew what she wanted. But it was always painfully hard to say it.

“I do understand this,” Hippolyta said solemnly, “A soldier, once they have taken an oath, has a duty to uphold that oath…” Her eyes met Diana’s. “...until discharged, or Death takes them.” She smiled in a way that made Diana’s breath catch. “Your countrymen know you’re alive?”

Diana stared down at the floor.

Up until now, she had assumed as much. After all, she _was_ alive. Sure, they had to be _worried_ about what had happened, but they wouldn’t just…

Why not?

Why wouldn’t they just assume that Airman Steve Trevor had died in a plane crash, forever lost at sea? They wouldn’t be able to find a body to recover, or the wreckage of the jet, and it wasn’t like they were about to admit that one of their pilots had just _disappeared_ into thin air.

It was simple and left no loose ends.

Diana let out a small, gasping noise which might have been a sob and might have been a laugh.

Hippolyta took another sip from her wine.

“So…” she said again, “How long do you plan on staying with us?”

Diana, in a weightless daze, picked up her own goblet and said, “Do I have to leave?”

It had been decided that, until other arrangements could be made and other accommodations could be found, Diana would live in the palace in one of Hippolyta’s unused chambers, of which there appeared to be a few. Diana had been pleased with this decision as, still not quite accustomed to the island or the other Amazons, it would give her time to get acclimated and, hopefully, learn all that she could from Hippolyta about their history and culture before she really attempted to fit in.

Some part of her still wondered if she ever would.

This, however, was thankfully small and easily cowed away into the recesses of her mind, especially when a tailor had been brought by and Diana been gifted the choice of whatever clothing she wished to wear. She had nearly burst into tears in front of them but had found the strength to wait until she was behind closed doors.

The dress was so beautiful, and so soft, and it even had _pockets_. It was everything that she had wanted. She held it up against the light and laughed at how, invisible before, an intricate pattern of stars now reflected the light brilliantly in shades of gold and silver and copper. And although her darker thoughts had warned her that such a beautiful thing would only betray what she was and break her own delusions about herself, it fit perfectly. She touched her jaw, her chest, her arms, her legs. Nothing looked too harsh with this on, too contrasting. Diana let out a little defiant laugh and twirled, letting her skirts billow out like petals.

She laid a hand upon her discarded uniform and stared at it awhile.

She then shoved it into the back of the deepest, lowest drawer she could find, caving, just this once, to the lesser thoughts that warned her she should not burn it.

 _Yet_ , she told herself.

And when she awoke the next day to find that the dream was still solid, she let out a joyous sigh of relief. 

Having been given free reign to explore the island though contenting herself with remaining within the palace grounds, Diana took in as much of her new home as she could, taking great care to greet each of the palace guards and commit their names to memory; as best she could, anyway. She met Leto and Helene outside the Library, while Daphne patrolled the gardens and central courtyard, and waved sheepishly at Eudora, who guarded the baths; these seemed to lack any sort of door and so she remained vigilant even while Diana bathed.

When at last Diana found Hippolyta again, she was engaged in conversation with a woman who seemed to be cut from the hardest obsidian that could be found. She was clad entirely in armor, all of which looked like it was being held together through the will of its wearer alone, and given the way in which she was speaking to Hippolyta, Diana came to two conclusions:

Firstly, she was, in all likelihood, the Antiope that the recording of Hippolyta had mentioned.

Secondly, and here Diana was even more sure than she had been on the first point, the two of them had definitely been, and likely still were, lovers.

Hippolyta smiled as Diana entered, though it appeared plastered over genuine worry. Antiope attempted no such deception.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked, fearful that the answer would be about her.

“It’s nothing,” Hippolyta began to say before Antiope, visibly frustrated, stepped between them.

“You want her to be an Amazon?” she demanded of her Queen, “Then treat her as such. Diana, yes? I’m sorry to say we are at war.”

Immediately, Diana’s mind flashed with images of fighter jets carpet-bombing the city square, or helicopters landing soldiers on the beaches. Her heart beat violently in her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” she pleaded, looking from Antiope to Hippolyta, “My jet’s distress beacon must have gone off and--”

“What are you talking about?” Antiope demanded, “ _Malaka_ , did you not tell her _anything_ , Hippolyta?” The queen’s gaze quickly corrected the outburst and let it be known that there would be more words later. “Er,” Antiope stumbled, clearing her throat, “My Queen.”

“I did not want to overwhelm her,” Hippolyta chided, striding over and taking Diana by the hand, “It is alright. You didn’t lead your countrymen to us. We’re under attack by a… different enemy.” She led Diana across the room as gently as she could manage in her current state to where a golden bowl filled with sand stood atop a plinth. Hippolyta waved her hand over this and the sand immediately turned to beads of pure crystal, each one glowing as they began to float and form into a model of the island. Although it was all wondrous to her, Diana was most amazed to see, visible upon one of the beaches, a perfect replica of what was undoubtedly her crashed F-15.

At the island’s heart, the beads began to glow a bright and sinister red.

“When the goddesses saved Themyscira,” Hippolyta began, “Their ‘betrayal’ angered Zeus. Although they had placed protective enchantments on the island, Zeus found a way to get a single curse through. Remember the thunder I mentioned, Diana? Yes, well, I should have thought more of it at the time…” Slowly, the beads expanded outward as the image began to show the island in greater and closer detail. Little projections of the inhabitants moved about much as they must have been doing at that moment, until these were passed by and the red glow encompassed nearly the entire image. To Diana, it looked too much like an angry mouth filled with jagged teeth.

“At the heart of Themyscira, Zeus placed a direct portal to Tartarus. We have been forced to guard it ever since, lest we be overrun. The opening ebbs and flows like the tide, though more erratic, but all the same we’ve been under siege for over three thousand years.”

Diana looked over at Hippolyta. Although she had obviously been blessed with agelessness, the way her face creased with worry in that moment betrayed lifetimes of hard-won wisdom. Diana offered a weak smile.

“But you’ve never ceded an inch, have you?”

Hippolyta returned the smile, strengthening both.

“Not a single _dactylos_.”

Diana nodded, a sense of normalcy returning as the confidence in the room rose. This was just your standard enemy incursion, no big deal, been a bit of a nuisance for a few millennia, but what hasn’t?

“Good. Then what are we looking at here and how do we stop it?”

Diana hated to admit it, but she was comfortable here, in a war room. Problems and solutions both became easier, provided you were willing to overlooking quite a lot of uncomfortable details. Antiope waved her hand over the board and the view shifted, showing a topographical readout of the area around the portal as viewed from above.

“It widened this morning quite suddenly,” the general explained. She threw her hand up and numbers and words began to form around the other images. “Nearly swallowed Eunomia, but otherwise it’s been silent since. Two hours, not a single sighting. I think we’re looking at a big one here, my Queen.” Hippolyta pressed an appraising hand to her chin, intently focused on the numbers.

“Stygian Energy readings seem to be within normal parameters,” she noted with a hint of doubt in her voice, “What do you make of that?”

“Problem with the scanners?” Antiope offered, brow furrowed.

“Could be. Or…” Hippolyta nodded, a look that Diana recognized; she was suddenly very sure of something. “Get everyone down there that still can as quickly as possible. I don’t care if they’re not yet armed, we can fix that once they’re on-site. I need all of our medics on stand-by.”

“At once, my Queen.” Antiope ran out like a shot, moving with a purpose and a sound like charging horses.

Hippolyta’s hand wrapped around Diana’s wrist.

“Come, Diana,” she ordered, already dragging her along, “I’ll get you to someplace safe and then I have to be with my people.”

“What?” Diana said, attempting to break the queen’s grip and draw back, “No! I’m a soldier, use me!”

“Diana,” Hippolyta began.

“No!” Diana insisted, finding leverage enough to free herself. “Listen, I know I’m not anywhere close to the same level as the rest of you, but I can still fight. Let me get my equipment out of my jet and help you, Hipp--my queen.” It was a low blow, but Diana wasn’t about to apologize when it landed. “You said I’m welcomed here. That you’d be happy for this to be my home. The way I figure it, that means you think I can be an Amazon. And from what I know, Amazons don’t back down from a fight, not when their people are at-stake. So, please: let me do this. Let me help defend my _home_.”

For a moment, Diana was certain that Hippolyta was just going to have her thrown in the dungeon or knocked out or whatever the queen did to dispose of nuisances.

And then she hissed and stamped her foot.

“ _Malakas!_ ” she cursed, casting her gaze skyward, “You two are going to be the death of me!” She let out a frustrated groan and started dragging Diana in another direction. “Fine,” she consented, raising Diana’s spirits, “But if you insist on this, then I will expect just as much from you as I do your sisters, understood?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

Hippolyta cursed again.

“Damn the day I ever agreed to wear this stupid crown…”

It took a considerable amount of effort, but Diana managed to free her service pistol from where it had been wrapped by the warped wreckage. She checked that it was still fully-loaded and then chambered the round; the kind of fight they were walking into didn’t sound like the one where you could waste time with such things.

In truth, after the initial adrenaline had worn off, she was beginning to feel rather silly. After all, here she was a regular human armed with nothing but an M1911 thinking she could fight side-by-side with literal immortal Amazons outfitted with technology beyond her imagining.

“Are you quite done?” Hippolyta yelled from the kanga. Diana holstered her gun and climbed down from the wreckage. The queen had been gracious enough to give her time to change into an Amazonian combat uniform, but Diana wasn’t keen on giving Hippolyta more time to think better of her past decisions.

“That’s it,” Diana said, shouldering the emergency pack that she kept under the seat. “Wish we could take the Sparrows with us, but I’m not about to try and free those things, let alone lug ‘em around.” She let out a small chuckle which fell away into confused staring as Hippolyta, with a slight huff, jumped down from the Kanga and across the beach to the crash-site.

“These?” she asked, pointing to the missiles. The impact or the heat of it had fused part of the cowling with the rest of the fuselage, leaving them effectively useless and immobile.

“Yeah, but--” Diana began. She closed her mouth into a tight, thin line as, without any apparent effort at all, Hippolyta grabbed a Sparrow in each hand and ripped them both free. They bounced atop her shoulders as she made her way back to the kanga, Diana lagging only a few moments behind.

* * *

She really should not have been surprised.

And yet, Diana was as she read the words inscribed above the entrance.

**_Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate_ **

What _else_ was factual?

Around her, a host of Amazons formed into ranks. In spite of Hippolyta’s protestations about preferential treatment, Diana had been assigned to the rear and, in addition to her pistol, had been given a “bow.” It was generally shaped as such, at least when unfolded, though it possessed some kind of mechanism through which the drawing of the string charged the particles of air around it, forming some kind of electric arrow in the process. It had taken her a minute to get the hang of the thing, as light as it was, but she was eventually deemed satisfactory for their current purposes.

Sweat dribbled down from her brow as she stood beside the other Amazons, awaiting the enemy’s charge.

Hippolyta had explained her reasoning during the trip to the battlefield.

“You see,” she had begun, “In order to better calculate an appropriate response to these incursions, we placed sensors near the mouth of the cave which collect reports on Stygian energy. _Don’t ask how it works, I don’t have time to explain all of that_. From what we’ve found, the higher the concentration of Stygian energy, the more powerful the foe we have to face, be it monster or demon or specter or the like.

“Since the energy levels appear to be the same, in spite of the noticeable widening of the portal, we can come to either one of two conclusions: either that the sensors are currently faulty, _or_ we are about to face a legion of lesser devils, which can be more easily disguised by the background levels.”

Antiope, astride her horse, ran up the ranks, barking orders.

“Archers, at the ready!”

Diana’s hands shook as she held ready the bow. The arrow’s energy crackled up her arm like static electricity, tingling as it played across her skin. The air grew hot around it, crackling and popping as her cheeks grew flushed.

Though the entrance was hazy from the heat, Diana could now spot the front lines of the approaching foe. From here, they appeared as little more as shadow, though their voices were raised in a chorus of dark, bass chanting, which echoed throughout the underground battlefield. The pools amplified it and the stalactites picked up the sound of it, echoing it back as though the rocks themselves had turned against them and were singing the war-chant too.

“Do not fear them!”

Hippolyta’s voice cut through the chant with ease. When she spoke, it seemed that all other sound had left the universe; Diana wondered if, in fact, it had.

“These shades are but twisted flesh and bone. Their veins course with blood and ichor. They are teeth and iron. But they face _Amazons_. We are stone and mud. Our veins course with fire. We are sound and we are fury!”

Hippolyta, armor gleaming, drew her blade, which crackled and shone with an energy like the arrows but wholly its own. While its edge was swirling white brilliance, the heart of the blade was a black void punctuated with stars which moved all their own. The image was reflected in the eyes of every Amazon, and in so doing it seemed to become more real, the words she spoke more solid than fact.

They were truth.

A fire began to burn in Diana’s gut.

With blade in hand, Hippolyta kicked her horse into a gallop. She pressed blade to stone, which sparked and parted at the very touch of the thing, until she had cut a perfect circle around the whole army of Amazons. It glowed with a menace which matched that of the portal.

“Once they enter this circle, they _will not leave_.”

It was more commandment than command, and everyone there understood the order and exactly what it meant. Diana gazed down at her heels, where the circle’s farther edge was drawn, and realized, suddenly, how important a position she had been given. She looked to Hippolyta, hoping that their eyes would meet, but the Queen had turned her focus to the enemy. The time for speeches, for camaraderie and comfort was over.

It was time for blood and steel.

The enemy erupted out of the gate with a roar like the ocean. Although they had the general shape of men, their skin was craggy and molten, and they moved more bestially.

The first volley was loosed, each arrow flying perfectly straight, striking and burning through their targets in an instant. Within the first minute, hundreds of the foe had been vanquished, each one barely within the circle. None had come close to striking distance.

From further back in their ranks, bolts of fire flew with far less precision and accuracy than the Amazons’ arrows. They exploded throughout the cavern, erupting sporadically and causing more noise than they did destruction. Instinctively, Diana ducked, though the Amazons around her never moved, except to send another volley at the foe. Cheeks flushed, she followed suit.

Although the enemy continued to fall, a thought was working its way up and down the lines:

 _This is too easy_.

A noise began to echo throughout the chamber, a cracking sound that reverberated with each snap. It came in waves, followed by a squelching noise that made Diana sick to her stomach.

Hippolyta and Antiope drew closer, swords at the ready.

At their feet, the fallen began to move.

With a shriek, the horses reared back as dozens of arms shot up from the ground and grabbed at the beasts’ legs, their necks, digging bloody trenches through their flesh with dozens of nails. Antiope and Hippolyta drew them both back, dismounting as they did so so that the horses could run to safety.

From beneath, the true enemy began to rise.

It did so with that same sickening cracking, squelching sound, as a hundred bodies knitted and knotted themselves together, until they formed a giant of a thing with fifty screaming, angry heads and a hundred grasping arms.

Although she didn’t understand the word, Diana’s blood ran cold as the Amazon nearest her whispered its name.

“ _Hecatoncheires_.”

The monstrous giant bellowed with fifty voices as it brought its club-like hands down upon every Amazon within its grasp. Those who had not yet drawn their swords were caught unawares and cast aside, leaving bloody trails as they skidded along the ground, their limbs broken and twisted into inhuman angles. From behind Diana’s position, the field medics leapt across the ranks, aided by mechanical wings, and began to shine purple rays upon these victims, turning what should have been immediate casualties into plausible recoveries. The beast attacked again, trying to swat away these intruders; fingers fell to the ground as it did so, Hippolyta and Antiope having both leapt on its malformed back with blade and spear drawn.

With disgust, Diana watched as other corpses merely slithered into the mass of bodies to replace every limb lost.

Volley upon volley of shining light was launched at the giant, piercing its hide until light shone through each hole; these filled up nearly as quickly as they were made, even as steam billowed from the wounds and the air grew heavy with the fetid stench of burning flesh. Slowly, the Amazons began to abandon their bows for their swords and spears and axes, and as one they rushed the great beast with a roar of their own. Diana, having foregone a sword as something unnecessary, berated herself as she joined the charge with pistol and combat knife in hand.

If she was an Amazon now, she’d just have to make do.

Blades stabbed at every inch of exposed flesh, piercing shin and thigh and gut and shoulder and flank and toe and hand. A few found purchase in the multitudinous skulls, but even this seemed to do little to stem the monster’s advance. It remained unspoken, but every Amazon was aware of its position.

It had passed the center now.

Some Amazons more prone to ingenuity drew cords taut around the monster’s ankles, causing it to stumble into a crouch. From there, they took the great lengths and leapt along the body, wrapping it in bonds so that no one arm would remain free. The work was arduous, and more than one Amazon found themselves impacting against a distant wall or stalagmite instead. Fifty jaws began to bite at the cords, fibers sticking to their yellowed teeth as they gnawed their way slowly to freedom.

But the Amazons would not let this opportunity go wasted.

As it squirmed in its bonds, they stabbed and stabbed and stabbed at the thing, spreading blood and ichor throughout the cave. Hippolyta led them in this, working her way nimbly along the giant so that her blade carved great swaths of the thing away in stinking, steaming piles of rapidly-melting flesh. Still, flesh was restored and wounds were healed, the beast seemingly matching its foe in fortitude.

Diana fired a few rounds into one of the giant’s heads and stabbed at its toes, feeling for all of the world like a diminishingly-annoying gnat. She stepped away from the lines for a moment, letting her sisters pass her by so that they could take a chance at stabbing the great thing. She grimaced; they had stopped its advance, but it would free itself eventually. What then?

She hoped that, if it was far enough away from the rest of Tartarus, it would eventually run out of bodies to replenish itself with, but that was little more than a theory or a hope, and even then it would mean they’d have to concede a considerable amount of ground. Not the worst strategy, of course, or the greatest loss, but Diana could not help but feel...demoralized at the thought of it.

No, there was another way.

The hecatoncheires snapped one of its tethers, freeing three arms which began to thrash back at the pests which swarmed about it. Antiope was knocked aside, landing in a heap several yards away.

Behind her, Diana spotted the kanga she and Hippolyta had arrived in.

A thought formed.

“Hey!” she shouted as best she could above the din, “Stop stabbing it! It’s not working!”

A few heads turned, including Hippolyta’s. Heat rose in Diana’s cheeks, but she continued.

“Listen, we need to drag it back through the portal and destroy it all at once! Come on, let’s get moving!”

Although she knew that she alone could do very little, Diana rushed ahead of the others and grabbed the loosened cord dangling behind the monster, tugging on it with all of her might. The creature did not move at all, but the idea had begun to spread amongst the Amazons. For a moment, they turned toward their queen; “Well? What are you waiting for?!” she shouted.

Soon, dozens of hands joined Diana’s own, wresting the beast from its position as they slowly dragged it backwards. With its few freed arms, it scraped at the ground, anchoring itself poorly but just enough to slow its forced retreat. Still, the Amazons pulled, finding a rhythm to the work. After a minute, Diana released her grip on the cord, her presence of no help anyway, before she double-timed it over to the kanga, passing the recuperating Antiope along the way. The two of them shared a look of what Diana hoped was mutual respect before she scrambled up into the pilot’s seat and nimbly navigated the craft into position behind the monster.

Without needing to be prompted, the Amazons at the rear of the cord began to anchor it to the kanga. When this was done, the Amazons collectively gave one more heave before letting go as Diana throttled up as much as the thing could handle. It let out a high-pitched wail but continued to function, dragging the giant back now with greater speed. As it thrashed about, freeing more of its arms, the Amazons instinctually moved in to block every attack, slicing away at its vulnerable flesh and preventing it from wrenching itself free from its predicament.

Hippolyta, having watched all of this unfold, looked towards Diana, her face horrified, realization having dawned. Diana saw her expression and frowned; she had been foolishly hoping that the queen wouldn’t have realized her full plan.

“No!” Hippolyta cried, rushing for the kanga. In her single-minded pursuit, she did not see the beast flail one free arm aside and knock a large stalactite from the ceiling, nor did she see it fall before it was already atop her. Hippolyta let out a pained cry, the edges of her mouth stained with blood, as rock pinned her to the ground and the medics began to arrive. “Diana,” she whispered hoarsely, reaching out as though she might pluck her from the kanga through sheer will.

She was powerless to stop it from crossing the threshold.

Immediately, an uncomfortable heat spread throughout Diana’s entire body. Her breathing became heavy and her movements sluggish; still, she gritted her teeth and went to work. She found the auto-pilot and engaged it as she ran toward where Hippolyta had dropped the Sparrows. It was not as easy as the Amazonian Queen had made it seem, but Diana managed to lift up the missile and steady it against the kanga’s fuselage; she didn’t worry so much as she didn’t need to aim very well.

As though the monster realized her plan, the hecatoncheires roared in anger as it tried one last attempt to free itself from its bonds. Without the other Amazons to fight it back, it tore and gnawed and snapped the tethers apart with relative ease, though its ankles remained bound with the cord which kept dragging it backwards. A hundred hands found the prison walls and held fast to them, steadying itself so that the kanga began to shake violently from stopped momentum and restrained speed.

Still, the giant had only made itself a bigger target.

Diana smiled, and wished for something to say.

But she wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste over so petty a quibble.

Diana drew back her bow, aimed directly for the missile’s exhaust, and fired. The engine ignited and the AIM-7 Sparrow rocketed forward, exploding upon impact with the giant monster and burning it to cinders, one and all. The kanga bucked without the anchor, Diana was thrown violently from the craft, and the tunnel partially collapsed atop her, leaving her to see a single, enormous yellow eye staring at her before everything went black.

The night before, before she had retired to what would be her room, Diana and Hippolyta had stood a while on the veranda and talked.

“You know,” Diana said, staring out at the impossible sea which surrounded the floating island and stretched to every horizon, “If I could do it all again, I would be born one of you.”

She didn’t say as much, but Hippolyta’s breath caught in her throat. She placed a hand there and smiled sadly at the stranger who had fallen from the skies in flame and smoke, evidently having flown too close to the sun.

Or, at least, to one of Themyscira’s cliffs.

“Diana,” she said, pulling her into an embrace, “You already were.”

The two of them stood for a while, embracing in silence as they stared out at the waves. On a nearby table, a numbered coin glittered in the soft light, resting precisely where Hippolyta had left it when she bolted from the palace to investigate what had just crashed upon the shore.

The Amazons who went after her were unaccosted, and when they crossed the threshold the portal shrunk down to normal proportions, leaving only a glowing red scar in the rocky surface of the cave wall.

Her body was badly burnt and her eyes showed no signs of life.

Shaking, Hippolyta fell to her knees and cradled Diana’s body. Tears ran down charred flesh before falling to the unfeeling earth. Hippolyta willed everything she had into her tears as she wailed, hoping that she was strong enough to restore flesh and set her lungs to breathing once more. But the tears did nothing more than what tears do, and it was evident that she was beyond the help of even the purple ray now.

A crow cawed.

Hippolyta, loud and clearly, cursed it.

“ **No need for that** ,” it responded. It was joined by several more murders of fellows before the shape of them was no longer a mass of shifting feathers and beaks and taloned feet but the cruelly-handsome face of Thanatos, dark wings billowing out to either side of him. “ **After all, I’m only doing my job.** ”

“ _Go away_ ,” Hippolyta hissed. She clutched Diana tightly to her breast, her eyes feral, teeth bared. If the god had any sense, he would have heeded her command and disappeared on the spot. “ _You cannot have her._ ”

 **I quite agree** , said another voice. This one was softer, friendlier than Thanatos’ had been, though he wrinkled his nose at it as though it had been belched in his face.

Where empty space had been a moment before, now there stooped a woman, hair a massive tangled mess, who placed an affectionate hand upon Diana’s shoulder. She smiled warmly at Hippolyta, and although she was shocked to see this unfamiliar intruder, the queen still had enough of her wits about her to notice the peculiarities about the woman, as well as the prominent ankh which hung from her neck. Even with all of her warmth, Hippolyta did not trust her and only tightened her grip on Diana’s body, pulling her away.

Before the woman could respond to this, Thanatos spoke again.

“ **What are _you_ doing here? This is my beat.**”

 **Yes** , the woman conceded, as though she was speaking to a petulant child, **But she was born in _my_ world, so you have no claim to her. I’m taking her home.**

“ **‘ _Home_?!’**” Thanatos spat, “ **She belongs in Elysium! Or at the very least Hades. Who, _by the way_ , personally sent me here, so I think you can just _run along!_** ”

The woman scoffed, leaving Hippolyta feeling further lost.

**Is that so? Why don’t we bring him here, then? Let him clear this up.**

“ **Oh** ,” Thanatos cawed, “ **I don’t think we need to go _that_ far, trust me. Tell you what, I’ll let you--**”

“No,” Hippolyta said, silencing them both. Both Deaths turned to look at the strange mortal who dared interfere, though only one of them showed any indication of offense. “Let’s.” Hippolyta closed her eyes, breathed deep through her nose, and then bellowed, “ **HADES!** ” in a voice that she was certain would shake the foundations of Olympus, itself.

The ground beneath them shook violently, forcing the other Amazons to scatter from where they had been gathering around the spectacle while Thanatos placed one taloned hand to his face, evidently unamused and dreading this development. From the lifeless earth, a single sapling sprouted, rapidly growing into a twisted, black tree, its branches bearing bright flowers. The bark parted like a curtain, one cold hand holding it aside as the Queen of the Underworld stepped out from the tree, nodding in deference to Hippolyta as her husband followed closely on her heels.

“Oh,” the Amazonian Queen sighed, wincing at the other Olympian, “Lady Persephone, I… did not mean to disturb you…”

“ ** _It’s quite alright_** ,” she beamed, stooping down so that their eyes were on an equal level. This, of course, also involved the a good deal of shrinking on the goddess’ part, but neither party said anything about this. Hippolyta stared into her eyes. Although they were a deep, bloody red, they were not as frightening as they ought to be. She wondered if Persephone was doing that for her sake. “ ** _I’m sorry for your loss._** ”

Where her hand touched Hippolyta’s shoulder, small flowers, vines, and lichen bloomed.

“Er…"” she managed, finding this display of affection now rather uncomfortable. After all, Diana had not actually _been_ her daughter; and yet… 

She wiped a tear from her eye.

“Thank you, Lady Persephone.”

 **Hades** , the mysterious woman said with a slight bow of the head, **Thanatos here tells me that you sent him here _specifically_ for this woman. Is this true?**

The look Hippolyta had given Antiope earlier echoed across the faces of Hades and Thanatos. He cleared his throat.

“ ** _That is correct_** ,” he said, though Hippolyta wondered how much of that was true, “ ** _While she was born outside of our jurisdiction, she died an Amazon. If you do not trust our accounts, I believe there are more than a few… witnesses that can attest to this, no?_** ” In spite of his assurances, the remaining Amazons slunk further into the shadows and away from this divine power play. He let out a small huff as he rolled his eyes. “ ** _Nevertheless, her soul belongs with us. I understand your complaint, but the manner of her death_ does _determine her final reward. I’m sorry. I...suppose_** ,” he began, twiddling his fingers, “ ** _We could always take this to a higher authority, if that’s what you want._** ”

 **No** , the woman said, and Hippolyta was surprised to see how sad she appeared, **There’s no need for that. Just… treat her well, will you? She had a rough life.**

“ ** _From what I understand_** ,” Persephone said, casting a knowing glance in Hippolyta’s direction, “ ** _It was rather joyous, near the end._** ”

Satisfied with the Olympians’ answers, the woman gave Diana one last sad smile before she departed, walking between moments so that between blinks she vanished.

Thanatos cracked his knuckles.

“ ** _Well then, I suppose I should get to reaping._** ”

“Wait!” Hippolyta demanded, throwing out an arm between Diana and the god. “Please,” she said, and her eyes were watery as she looked between Persephone and her husband, “She deserved better than this. Surely this can be… undone?”

Hades’ face was full of surprise while Persephone only smiled, equal parts knowing and, if Hippolyta was being honest, vaguely sinister.

“ ** _Are you certain?_** ” Hades asked, “ ** _A request like this is not without its price. We cannot give this freely, you know._** ”

“ ** _Of course she’s certain_** ,” Persephone responded, smiling at her husband, “ ** _Just look at her._** ”

For the first time, Hades truly did, bending down so that the look he got was a good one. With a discerning eye, he passed his gaze over Hippolyta, who felt that he was looking beyond the physical and into her very soul; which, in all honesty, he probably was.

He nodded grimly.

“ ** _I cannot restore this vessel to life_** ,” he said at last, gesturing toward Diana’s body, “ ** _But as her soul has not yet passed into our possession, it can be… rehomed_.**”

Hippolyta nodded in understanding.

“Thank you,” she breathed, casting her eyes downward, “I’ll have my best geneticists go to work at--”

“ ** _No_** ,” Persephone and Hades said in unison.

Hippolyta blinked.

“ ** _For a blessing such as this, the Old Ways must be followed_** ,” Hades commanded. His gaze was unrelenting now, and Hippolyta willed her spine into one of steel so that she could match it.

“Very well,” she said. She looked down at Diana’s lifeless body, tracing the line of her cheeks with her hand. “When…” she began, her voice cracking lightly, “When will I know what price must be paid?”

Persephone smiled.

“ ** _The Bill will come Due_**.”

She rose and walked over to the tree, where her hand found her husband’s and together they plucked a single flower from the branches. In Persephone’s hands, it blossomed in a matter of moments. She placed the pomegranate into Hippolyta’s hand.

“ ** _When you have fashioned the body_** ,” Hades explained, “ ** _This will be her heart. If you do not do this, she won’t have a soul._** ”

This grim declaration done, Hades cast one final look to Thanatos, who reverted again into several murders of confused crows that flew away into the shadows. Then, together, the King and Queen of the Underworld stepped again into the tree, giving surprisingly-warm smiles to the Queen of Themyscira, which then withered and slunk back into the earth.

She worked it all herself.

With her own hands, Hippolyta harvested the mud, digging deep into the soil until her whole body was covered in it.

With her own hands, she chopped the wood, gathered it, and built the pyre, trekking up and down the tallest peak as she did so.

With her own hands, she mined the earth and forged the blade from what she found, not the alloys that they used now but real, honest iron.

With her own hands, she applied oils and perfumes to her body, wrapping her as gently as her rough hands could in the funeral linens.

With her own hands, she placed Diana atop the pyre and lit it. Although this was to be done by her and her alone, as many Amazons as could gathered on the outskirts of the clearing to view it, bowing their heads in respect.

With her own hands, she gathered up the ashes and worked them into the mud. Then, with her own hands, she put blade to palm and spilled her own blood into the bowl.

With her own hands, Hippolyta fashioned for Diana a new body of clay. She had never been a skilled sculptor, but she worked as hard as she could. She worked each line with care and reverence, working them down until they were familiar to her eyes. She fashioned her hands so that they would be good and strong, yet still as gentle as they had been in life. She sculpted a body to match the soul and, although it was not required for the ritual, she mixed her tears into the clay as well.

She hoped that, when she was done, there would be some justice to it.

Sweat and mud stained her as Hippolyta stepped back from her labor. Her eyes watered at the sight and she was certain that she had been just a vessel, that the gods had been the ones to work the deed, instead. Because laying before her upon the marble was Diana, the _truth_ of her, the woman that she had always been. The Amazon, her expression peaceful, at-rest. Forgetting herself, Hippolyta leaned down and planted a soft, warm kiss upon the clay of her forehead, surprised to find it somehow resolute, as though solid.

Then, with her own hands, she parted Diana’s center, opening her up with great care. In the hollow, she placed the pomegranate that had been given, murmuring prayers and blessings over it as she did so.

With her hands over the thing, she closed her eyes and whispered so that only she, and maybe the gods, could hear.

“ _Please, come back to me, Diana_.”

Although it did not happen all-at-once, Hippolyta removed her hands quickly. She stared down in amazement as vines began to grow out from the pomegranate, a network of them until they formed her veins. These twisted and flowered until each new fruit was another organ, each one glowing as a fire burned within. Though she did not move, Hippolyta could swear that Diana breathed as the sound of it rushed through her rapidly-forming lungs. The air smelled sweet with the scent of flowers and, slowly, the opening closed and true, living color began to show on Diana’s cheeks.

Then, as though it had always been the body for which she had been made, the form of Diana began to metamorphosize, shrinking in upon itself.

She breathed, truly, for the first time, and let out a wailing cry.

Without hesitation, Hippolyta swooped down and scooped up the babe, holding her in her arms which suddenly seemed so weak and ill-suited to the task. And yet… 

Hippolyta gazed down into the baby’s eyes. They shone just like hers. 

She let out a ragged, shuddering breath, unable to stop herself. It blossomed into a smile, and she pressed her forehead to the baby’s own just as the sun began to rise.

Beaming, Hippolyta lifted the baby up so that she could feel the sun on her face for the first time, bouncing her gently, as though she could shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“Do you see that?” Hippolyta asked of the baby, as the sunlight began to cast aside the darkness and illuminate the trees, the houses, the city, the palace, the cliffs, the shore. “Do you see all of that, Diana? That’s Themyscira.

“You’re home.”


End file.
